venomdoc

Riding the wave

2009-10-27T03:37:00.000-07:00

Geek tools for scientists

This is a very very interesting writeup and very well put. It will be interesting indeed to see how Google Wave impacts upon science. As science is inherently a dynamic endeavor, with amorphic teams, a tool such as Google Wave should in theory be just what the doctor ordered. It will be interesting to see what security features are built in since the stakes go beyond simple academic territorial pissing, being first-in/best-dressed, but also commercial in confidence issues.

Evolution is not Darwinism

2009-10-27T03:25:00.000-07:00

Stupid BBC article

What is particularly annoying about this article is that evolution is not 'Darwinism', which portrays is as a cult built around Darwin. Wallace was as instrumental as Darwin in early formulation and countless other scientists have contributed since then. That is what the writer should have stressed. Perhaps it should have also been mentioned that we actually know more about evolutionary processes than we do about gravity. Should 'intelligent falling' be taught next to gravitational theory?

As for whether there is a fundamental polarisation between science and religion. Of course there bloody is. Science operates by observation, identification, description, experimental investigation and theoretical explanation of phenomena, with activities restricted to a class of natural phenomena. Religious faith, by contrast, are believes that do not rest on logical proof or material evidence but rather acceptance instead of questioning. Faith can't be put in a test tube. Thats why it shouldn't be put in a science classroom! All religions were spawned by ignorance of the natural world. Drought? Unhappy god. Kill a cow. Earthquake? Unhappy god. Throw a virgin into a volcano.

Evolution is not Darwinism

2009-10-27T03:13:00.000-07:00

Stupid BBC writeup

What is particularly annoying about this article is that evolution is not 'Darwinism', which portrays is as a cult built around Darwin. Wallace was as instrumental as Darwin in early formulation and countless other scientists have contributed since then. That is what the writer should have stressed. Perhaps it should have also been mentioned that we actually know more about evolutionary processes than we do about gravity. Should 'intelligent falling' be taught next to gravitational theory?

As for whether there is a fundamental polarisation between science and religion. Of course there bloody is. Science is operates by observation, identification, description, experimental investigation and theoretical explanation of phenomena, with activities restricted to a class of natural phenomena. Religious faith, by contrast, are believes that do not rest on logical proof or material evidence but rather acceptance instead of questioning. Faith can't be put in a test tube. Thats why it shouldn't be put in a science classroom! All religions were spawned by ignorance of the natural world. Drought? Unhappy god. Kill a cow. Earthquake? Unhappy god. Throw a virgin into a volcano.

Fuel for misunderstanding

2009-10-21T22:20:00.000-07:00

The press is abuzz today with the missing link that went missing. Ida, the fossil in the Norwegian natural history museum (shown in the brown box in the image of me at the musuem in Oslo) sits closer to lemurs than to at the base of the tree. Creationists are trumpeting this as an epic fail for evolution when in fact it is a rather excellent example of how science should work. That science, unlike relgion, advances through scrutiny by professional peers.

This is also an illustration of the inherent problem with science communication. Most scientists do not engage the public, for fear of their results being made a hash of (with no small amount of validity). In this case, the authors went the other extreme and got a documentary contract, book contract etc. before the findings were subject to peer review. Now not only do they look a bit presumptuous but the debacle has given unwarranted fuel for religious sorts to try and discredit evolutionary science with. :: sigh ::

This is not to take away from the fact that it is a fantastic fossil and certainly reveals a lot about the evolutionary history of the Adapiforms. In particular are features that originally were interpreted as being shared with apes are in fact the result of convergent evolution.

Desert Rose

2009-06-15T04:57:00.000-07:00

The exhaustion after the dramas in Melbourne was poignantly potentiated by this being my first visit back to the US desert since the divorce. Albuquerque is somewhere Alexia and I had great times, particularly the absurdity of having snowball fights at the top of the very high mountain that towers over the city like Mount Olympus. After a couple days of coma-like sleep, I headed out into the desert with my mate Paul Huang and his brother Jay. The first night out set the tone for our fun and games with US law enforcement. We were pulled over near Alimas. Young guy. Thick as shit. Why is it that they are always stupid and fat?! More wobble than swagger. He smugly informed us we were doing 65 in a 55. Paul said no were weren’t and pointed to the sign 25 meters in front of us. It said ‘65’ and underneath that ‘caution speed reduction ahead’. The ‘aw fuck’ look on his face was priceless. In a desperate attempt to save face, he tried to get Paul for not having a seatbelt. Paul calmly pointed out to him that he took it off so that he could reach into his back pocket to get his wallet. Jay and I had our seatbelts on (as well as shit-eating grins plastered across our faces). The cop huffed and puffed his way back to his car. I just knew the first Mexican he pulled over that night was going to get beaten.

We proceeded to the field spot where we were catching up with Chip Cochran and also Matt Goode + his field crew from the University. Chip is an old mate of ours and one of the best field people I know. Matt gave him his first scientific job. Matt is a researcher on snake movements, primarily on the small montane species but he is also doing some amazing research in India on King Cobras with our mutual mate Rom Whitaker. Snake catching was pretty poor since the weather was unseasonably cool and wet. A good setup to build the food web for a bloom of life later in the summer but slim pickings at the current time. Not that it hugely mattered since it was so rejuvenating just to be in the field. My energy levels climbed with every breath. Particularly this time of year when the cactuses are blooming. The desert succulent plants respire at night, rather than during the day like leafy plant. Thus the night is full of exotic perfumes and aromas. I love wandering through it with lights off, just guided by the moonlight. Soaking in the smells and the nocturnal symphony. After lots of healing fun in the desert, we headed back to Albuquerque for the scientific conference

Before the conference I quickly popped up to Chicago to visit Rob Carmichael’s amazing facility (Wildlife Discovery Centre). The highlight of which was getting to fly the red-tailed hawk. I was also there to give two talks to the Chicago Herpetological Society. One of the oldest and most respected of the US herp societies. Throughout it’s existence it has had a formal association with the museum, providing that vital bridge between hobbyist and professional. I gave two talks: one on the research and the other a random compilation of field shots (cool locations, weird animals and trashed rental cars). It was all very well received and the standard of question exceeded that some some professionals at conferences.

I looooooooooooooove raptors!!

With Rachel and Jason at the Chicago Herp Society meeting

Afterwards we headed out to see what sort of trouble we could get into. With me being me, this didn’t take long. I really wanted to ride an electric bull, having never done that before and such delights not existing in Australia. The one place that had such a contraption was hosting a private party. The host said ‘I don’t know them’ and that should have been that. Except that even my very poorly developed gaydar could register his sexual orientation. I am usually completely oblivious about this, as I am too busy focusing on tasty looking birds to eat. However, once I became aware, being the white hunter I am with a very quick first step, I used my inherent lack of shame to proper effect. I instantly glammed him. Gave him the full force of my charm. He absolutely melted and enthusiastically invited us to join his party. Only on the condition that we ride the bull. Which was fine since was what we were there to do. All of this took less than five seconds; the rest of the group was barely even aware of what was going on before I had already flirted us inside. The crew of course found my methodology hilarious. Mission accomplished. Riding the bull was a hell of a lot of fun. Quite different than riding a peaking ecstasy-freak girlie or hopping on the back of a pissed off crocodile. No impact with the ground but primarily changing centrifugal forces. First ride didn’t last that long but we did get some hilarious footage of it The second when much longer once I figured out how to oppose the forces.Great fun! After that we hit a club and listened to some astounding BB-King style live blues until 4am. I then boarded the early flight back to Albuquerque. Chicago is definitely worth revisiting again!

yeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee haaaaaaaaaaa!!!!

Conferences are terribly important events for putting a face to a name. Misconceptions over emails can be readily to put bed once things are put in context in a way that can only be facilitated. However, the reverse is also true. For example, I have an on-going philosophical debate with Ken Kardong about what makes a snake ‘venomous’ and this came to a head during the conference.

My definition is quite straightforward and can be applied to any venomous order:
• A secretion, produced in a specialised gland in one animal and delivered to a target animal through the infliction of a wound (regardless how tiny it could be), which contains molecules that disrupt normal physiological or biochemical processes so as to facilitate feeding or defence by the producing animal.
• By extension, toxins should be regarded as particular examples of intergenome active elements, by means of their action on the extraorganismal space.
• This definition, based on biological function as opposed to an anthropocentric view of toxicity, recognizes that there is a vast range of effects of envenomation

Characteristics of venom proteins:
• Toxins belong to small a number of multigene families (e.g., phospholipase A2, metalloproteases, three-finger toxins)
• Though gene recruitment, toxin families are novel versions of ordinary body proteins expressed in the venom and gland and mutated into toxic functions.
• Evolve through process of gene duplication and functional diversification
• Attack myriad of targets through a diversity in 3D shape and charge distribution
• Molecular scaffold types imply use:
e.g. inert peptidic neurotoxins are useless as lubricants or predigestives, having only one potential effect: paralysis resulting in immobilization or even death.

Thus, when these generalities are applied to the reptile venom system, the following emerges:
• The venom system (dentition, glands, proteins) derives through a process of evolutionary tinkering, reusing and modifying existing homologous parts with each variable evolving independent of the other (there is no irreducible complexity), resulting in an almost infinite number of combinations
• The 4 front-fanged snake venom systems are independent (Atractaspis genus, Elapidae family, Homoroselaps genus and Viperidae family), non-homologous specializations that share no homology with each other, other than through the more generalized homology of the basal gland system.
• At least 3 other rudimentary convergences of compressive muscles (Brachyophis in the Atractaspinidinae subfamily of the Lamprophiidae family, Mehelya in the Lamprophiinae subfamily of the Lamprophiidae family, and Dispholidus genus within the Colubridae family) have occurred
• Thus the distinction between Duvernoy’s glands and venom glands is an artificial one that impedes our understanding of the evolution of the venom apparatus of snakes. The differences between the glands lacking compressor muscles is huge, so there is no one type of gland but rather the extensive variations on a theme to be expected under standard evolutionary rules
• Maxillary venom gland in all Anguimorpha lizards also displays evidence of on-going, active evolutionary tinkering. We have shown substantial variation in size, shape and number of compartments, with significant differences existing even between closely related species such as Heloderma horridum (Beaded lizard) and Heloderma suspectum (Gila monster)
• Rapid prey death is an overly restrictive and arbitrary determinant of whether a toxic secretion should be termed a ‘venom’ as it obscures the evolutionary homology
• Venomous does not automatically mean medically important. This is a point we make continually. All spiders are venomous but only a handful, scattered across the taxonomical tree, are medically important. The same applies to the snakes.

However, despite our best efforts, arguing with some people is like having a debate with a creationists. They are arguing from a position of belief, not one of fact, and seem to feel that repeating the same, already negated point, over and over will some how make it true. There is no ‘irreducible complexity’ of the venom system. A simple tooth wound and potent, but small amounts of, neurotoxic venom is sufficient for paralysis of soft-skinned, non-dangerous prey items such as geckos. Lethal toxicity is not even needed as partial paralysis is enough for ingestion, with subsequent intragut suffocation. Constriction may be used too, such as in the Australian elapid genus Pseudonaja. Anything from there is simply derivations for differential ecological use, such as the hole-punching fangs of elapids facilitating ophiophagus (and other thick scaled reptilian) predation. Just like creationists, strawman arguments are also used by adherents to positions that were once valid before our understanding of the animals was shaped by additional data. Such as the Kardong favorite that rabbits have phospholipase A2 molecules and therefore he said during his conference talk that by my definition they are venomous too. Ummm… errr… no. An utter non-sequitor. The PLA2 in the rabbits are in their kneecaps, pancreas etc. not mutated forms being produced from a specialized glands and having toxic mutant bioactivity for use in predation. A completely irrelevant statement that displays a fundamental lack of toxinological understanding. Duh. There is no venomous Easter Bunny.

During my undergrad studies, I spent five years knocking off three degrees simultaneously: molecular biology, psychology and philosophy. The former has of course been the core of my professional existence and what I further pursued to obtain my PhD. However, the latter two are still quite relevant. The behaviour of Kardong is almost text book about what occurs when there is a paradigm shift based upon new knowledge imparted through significant technological development. In such event horizons, science stops operating through objective evaluation of data and instead becomes quite tribal. These sorts of cultural wars usually persist as long as some of the outdated advocates are alive and the flames of dissension die out with the eyes being veiled by darkness. This was a particular area of fascination for me during my undergrad and was a significant aspect of my undergrad philosophy seniour thesis as it is the quintessential intersection between science, philosophy and psychology. The essential human elements that are brought into play are very much the same as the divide between science and religion. They are not alternate, equal views of the world. Sometimes someone is just quite simply wrong.

Another area of such intersection, with more immediate human medical implications rather than esoteric evolutionary theory, is the work Leslie Boyer and crew are doing on the relative efficacy of CroFab (USA manufacturered) vs Antivipmyn (Mexican) antivenoms in the treatment of US rattlesnake envenomations. It appears that Antivipmyn is not only cheaper but more effective and with less time spent in the hospital for the patient. Phase III clinical trials are underway but it certainly seems that it will only be a matter of time before it is formally approved for use in the US without an IND number having to be obtained.

The inherently incestuous nature of scientific communities is never so tellingly evident than the behaviour on-display during a bacchanalian feast. The random writhing on the dance floor by white people completely immune to the beat. Much like a centipede having some sort of seizure. With the glorious exception of the Latin lovelies and their metronomic hips. Social glue was liberally applied that night.

After the conference, Chip and I went herping down near Nogales on our over to Arizona. The scene had changed quite a bit for three reasons: Swine flu, a drug war where people were being shot in the streets and the newly implemented passport requirement even for US citizens at the border with Mexico. Resulting in decimation of the local businesses. Swine flu has been hugely overblown, the drug wars have been brown-on-brown violence and the typical American could not be bothered to fill out the forms or spend the 200 for a passport. So they partied more on the US side than it used to be. Regardless of the validity of the reasons for people staying away, Nogales was as dead as I have ever seen a Mexican border town. The strip clubs were less ‘Dusk till Dawn’ and more ‘Dusk till Yawn’. The top stripper talents were all away at Mexico City doing full-time porn films. We charitably did our part to economically stimulate the local business and support home-grown talent. All part of that caring and sharing personality for which I am known.

Walking back across the border was farcical. The border control agent actually asked our tequila sodden selves where we had come from. We managed to say ‘Mexico’ without too much sarcasm but there were big ‘DUH!’ signs above us. So I couldn’t resist a smart assed comment when he asked ‘are you bringing anything back with you?’. My reply: well gee, I hope I didn’t catch anything during that hooker orgy. I tried, unsuccessfully, to keep a straight face. While this caught him off guard he could at least see a bit of humour in this. It was now daylight so we drove straight to Ruby Road to road cruise for vine snakes. We did get an hour of sleep in there while waiting for things to warm. That is we were deep asleep when border patrol knocked on the windows and asked if we were alright. I said ‘I was before you woke me up!’, put the window up in his face and rolled over to try and sleep some more. Ignore them enough and they’ll go away is my philosophy with border patrol.

After vine snake hunting we were driving towards Tucson when we encountered one of the ‘suspiciousless checkpoints’ that the “patriot” act has allowed within a 100 mile ‘constitution free zone’ around the US border. This allows them to detain you with only a minimum standard of probable cause. However, they still have to meet that standard. Most people don’t realise this and give permission for their 4th amendment rights to disappear. The 4th amendment is the one concerning unreasonable search and seizure. However, Chip and I were well versed in this and in no mood for their bullshit. The conversation was farcical:
BP: Would you please pull over there?
Chip: are we being detained?
BP: would you please go over there?
Chip: am I being detained?
BP (looking at me): are you a US citizen
Me: [silence since passengers do not have to answer any questions!]
BP: would you please go over there?
Chip: am I being detained?
BP: no you are not being detained?
Chip: am I free to go?
BP: would you please go over there?
Chip: am I being detained?
BP: you may go

Fuckwits.

Chip staring down a border-nazi as he glares at the camera. Suck shit dickhead!!

These creeping loss of rights inevitably result in a fascist state and thus I have absolutely zero tolerance for such Orwellian behaviour. Border patrol hiring used to require a college degree. An educated figure in authority is more likely to understand the rules binding behaviour. The current crop however is dominated by ex-military. The gov hiring rules have been changed so that returning-from-Iraq military can easily get jobs, thus sparing the gov of the embarrassment of lots of out-of-work military. However, having damaged, poorly acclimated, ex-military control freaks in positions of authority is not exactly conducive to a smooth interaction with the general populace. Upon being argued with their faces take on masks of angry disbelief. How dare we exercise constitutionally protected rights?! If he could have shot us, he would have. He also hated the fact that I had the video camera aimed straight at him. There have been some awful incidents exactly in these situations. There is even a current lawsuit where at one of these checkpoints they broke the windows of the car driven by a US pastor who had the audacity of questioning their legitimacy, dragged him out and beat him senseless. Leaving him with profound permanent injuries and disability. Luckily it was caught on film or else they would have swept it under the carpet.

Such absurdities extend to other parts of US gov hiring. Chip, for example, went for a job tracking Burmese pythons in the Florida everglades. In addition to being one the best field people I know, Chip also has six years experience radio tracking elusive montane rattlesnakes. Eminently qualified for such a position. The application process has several sections. One deals with experience, the others deal with former government service. The experience area however is not, as would be expected, essential criterion. Rather the amount of points given for ex-military service (purely for political reasons) is so high that the experience section can be entirely blown and the person still be favoured if they have enough previous military service. Chip has stellar experience qualifications but zero military service brownie points to be had. One time the successful candidate was a returning soldier who had never radiotracked but once owned a Burmese python as a kid!!!!! I am all for giving returning soldiers a helping hand but not at the cost of quality people who could adeptly fill such a position. So begins the descent of America into an Idiocracy.

After this I headed up to Prescott, AZ with my mate Angela (Glamazon from the Amazon) for some herping and also a raid on my favourite art gallery in the world: Van Gogh’s Ear. I picked up an awesome metal sculpture showing claws tearing through a silver wall. Very much the gateway to Hades, with the imagination creating a nightmarish creature on the other side.

My favorite piece of artwork to-date

While we were having a couple quiet drinks at the Bird Cage Saloon, we overheard the bartender say to someone who’s opinion he disagreed with ‘That is an anti-American statement, you must be a Republican.’ We fell upon ourselves laughing. It is so true. The far-right wingnuts are anti-American in the purest sense. They want to prison-rape the constitution, particularly the 1st, 4th and 5th amendments. But, without seeing the hypocrisy, they view the 2nd as sacrosanct. Violate one, violate all. Hold one above tampering, hold all. There is nothing more fundamentally anti-American than defiling the constitution.

Herping Prescott is always good fun. Angela even caught her first horned lizard in the wild.

A bit of shameless posing at Prescott

Angela with her first wild horned lizard. Look at that grin!!!

We were quite amused by the unfortunately name nearby town of Thumb Butte – whipping down the dirt trails with pucker factors of 11. While doing some fieldwork later that eve, we were sitting in Baghdad servo lot and I was taking stock of the last two years that had gone down since I sat in the same parking lot, looking at the same stars and wrestling with the same issues. Uncertainty then. Done deal now. Doppler Effect. Using the physical location to see in my mind’s eye the comings and goings. This time, however, I got to see some huge comic relief in the form of a young, brunette Baghdad streetwalker trucker special. Nothing quite like watching dude in a large pickup stopped halfway across the intersection as she drunkenly stumbles towards him in her cheap high heels. He eventually pulls off but a big-rig slows right down for her. Ah, nothing quite like small country life!!

After Prescott, I showed Angela around the Phoenix Herpetological Society. While we had Tuesday out, she squirmed and gave me a headbutt the likes I’ve never had. Harder than anything I’d ever delivered. I was a stunned mullet for a couple minutes. Seeing nothing but stars and the mental activity a total flatline. Wow. She even caught me on the hard round upper part of my noggin. She definitely would have knocked me out if she hit me on the flat lower part or shattered my nose. She wasn’t being nasty, just trying to adjust to a more comfortable position. I of course forgave her. She has me wrapped around her scaley little finger.

I am so in love with Tuesday!!

Clem hates everyone but this giant gator is too much fun to play with!!

Donny, one of the largest and by far the sweetest retic I've every held

With my mate Cale and my darling Tuesday

A stunner of beaded lizard

The next day we took some animals over for a presentation my mate Brady Barr was giving. So as to not steal any of his thunder, I was to keep a low profile. Which naturally resulted in me leaping on the nile crocodile’s head after me and the PHS crew chased it around following it’s escape from the truck!!!! But at least I had my Akubra hat slouching over my face so that even though I was, as usual in the thick of things, I at least kept my grinning mug covered up and my twinkling blue eyes cloaked!! Before Brady left, he got a chance to be blown away by the Phoenix Herp Society collection.

Brady Barr, myself and the crew from the PHS

Having returned another rental car that in a short period of time was transformed from pristine virgin into burnt out border-town whore, I am now off to Mecca: Komodo Island

Disco Inferno

2009-05-26T21:43:00.000-07:00

Well, the last month has certainly been an eventful one. Truly an embodiment of the Chinese curse ‘may you live in interesting times’. During the downtime I wanted nothing more than base, unpretentious, simple-minded fun, which Vampirella (of the body paint glory in the previous post) was the perfect partner for. We are on the same wavelength of just enjoying the moment. When together it is not just hours of tantric sex, we do actually have conversations. Quite long, rambling and deep ones at that covering all philosophical topics. One that we particularly enjoyed teasing out is how fear and love are the only two true motivations for any behaviour. Everything else seems to stem from one or the other or both. They are teh motivation behind the motivation, the emotion behind the emotion. The primal, existential fuel that drives all of our experiences.

Nothing beats a 4am tipsy visit from her. After me springing for the 100 cab ride from the city for her to come up to the mountain I figured it’d be an eventful night. The night however, proved much more eventfull than anticipated. Indeed, I was up to my balls in eventfulness. As we are having a romantic kiss at the doorway, I feel a sonic wind behind my knees. Fucking Cleo has just bolted out the door and into the night. Stopping to turn a few meters away. Waiting for us to notice her. As soon as we do, she disappears down the gravel driveway, white ass bouncing like an African gazelle. Taunting us the same way a gazelle would taunt lion. We give chase. Vampirella in a very short, very tight black leather mini-skirt, black lace stockings, black high high heels and nothing little black shirt. Me in blue terry clothe robe, open and flapping behind me like a superhero cape as my other wise nude body is propelled by my UGG-boot clad feet. We chase the little cunt Cleo for 45 minutes until she discovers the goats a several properties over. Now forgetting instantly us, bolting over to start attacking the goats. Mera, who we have let out to act as an attractant to Cleo, sheds her dogginess and lets her dingo side take full control. She is hunting too. Oooooooooooooohh nooooooooooo!!!!!!!! This has gone from farcical to extremely fucked. Australia has a one-strike and you are dead rule when it comes to dogs harassing livestock. Two dingoes actually attacking is even worse. They are not bitting but rather using the uniquely dingo very long, bladelike canine incisors, to slice at the back of the legs. Looking to slice that first tendon. After that, the prey is easy pickings. I don’t need a trumpet up my ass to know this is an extremely fucked up situation. In high heels and a very short leather mini skirt, on a steep muddy slope, Vampirella does the most amazing sprint and then superwoman fly through the air, crash tackling of Cleo, getting an arm around the neck while pinning Cleo’s body to the ground. Looks up and gives me the sweetest grin. Cleo doesn’t struggle, she knows the game is up. Mera morphs back into her doggy alter-ego. Legendary!!!.

Shortly thereafter I am off to Weipa for a pair of film shoots. First one is very routine, yet another German film crew. Colour-by-numbers. Baiting in big bull sharks during the day, stingrays at dusk, and sea snakes at night. Too bloody easy. During the filming of one scene I finally saw my first wild taipan up there and was off like a rocket after it down the road wearing just shorts and sandals. Definitely the most fun I’ve ever had chasing after a snake. The next crew arrived about two hours after the Germans left. This crew was two mates of mine from South Africa (Don and Devon) and Don’s lovely Aussie fiance’ Teresa. We knocked off an entire three day shoot in only two and a half hours. The resulting footage was awesome and everybody was thrilled. The crew departed early the next morning and I spent the next two days fishing with the producer. The fishing in Weipa is legendary!

On the way back to Melb I stopped off at Townsville for the weekend to hear my dear mate Sammy-G play in her reggae band. During the first night some drunken dickhead tried to start a fight with me. This triggered elements of my dark past. I used to get in lots of bar fights just for fun. I didn’t need my psychology degree to spot some random dickhead looking for a fight. He’d be out for a fuck or a fight and with a shit-shirt like that, there was no way he was going to get laid. I was the predator who hunted other predators. And finding a new victim was never difficult. There is some sort of alpha-male pissing contest ritual that is supposed to be followed like dance steps. Get in each others face. A shove. A punch. A writhing mêlée. I didn’t buy into that. This was a barfight, Marquess of Queensberry rules did not apply. I preferred to just cut to the chase and deliver a headbutt the instant someone got in my face. Nothing is more devastating than a well-placed headbutt. The element of surprise is one of its true strengths. I would strike instantly wth total fury and as little of warning as possible. It is quite unexpected in any circumstance and particularly not within a microsecond after some random Neanderthal got into my face and said ‘You looking for a probl-’ Sentence left unfunished as his unconscious ass hit the ground, to be drug outside by the bouncers (typically mates of mine) at leisure. The secret to the heatbutt is to use the hard, rounded top part of the forehead. Smashing it full force into the much thinner part of the centre of the forehead bounces their brain off the inside of the skull. If not knocking out instantly, then at least stunning this piece of meat long enough for a sharp punch to the solar plexus, that nerve centre of fun that if tagged right instantly disables the ability to breathe. At this point my preferred option was to snap a kick to the side of the head. Depending on where it landed, he was either going unconscious finally or was going to have his jaw broken. Either way, he was now my victim. If I was feeling particularly cruel that night, after the solar plexus punch but before the inevitable kick, I’d hook a few punches as hard as I could into his kidneys so that he’d be pissing blood for the next week. However, I have left that world behind me and I do not want to go back into it. I don’t like that side of me. So when this idiot appeared out of the crowd, for no reason, and said ‘you got a problem with me’. With a cheery smile on my face I said ‘No mate, not unless you want one’. This confused him since I was totally relaxed. No tension at all. So nothing for him to use to escalate the situation. He came back a few minutes later, no result again. He went away even more confused. At that time someone had a quiet word in his ear. That I was just hear to enjoy hearing my mates play, and that I was quite capable of putting him in the hospital if I felt like it. He actually listened to his lone functioning brain cell and came up and shook my hand while apologising. I wasn’t smug, just said ‘its all good mate’. I actually used his camaraderie to raise the call for ‘encore’ after Banda Moon finished their set. See miracles can happen, I have grown up in at least one area!

Sammy and I had a few enjoyable day using drift-lines with funnel & pit-traps at one of her survey spots south of Townsville before it was time for me to fly back to Melbourne. The Komodo Dragon & Megalania study finally was coming out in the Proceedings of the National Academy of Science (click here to download the PDF). This study was a vessel into which I had poured no small amount of my life-force. Truly my favourite study to-date and certainly one that will persist long after my I have become worm-bait. Getting it published took almost as long as it did to do the work! Destroying an existing paradigm always is going to be a fight. This study showed for the first time that the effectiveness of the Komodo Dragon bite is a combination of highly specialized serrated teeth and venom. We also dismiss the widely accepted theory that prey die from septicemia caused by toxic bacteria living in the dragon’s mouth. We used two types of medical imaging techniques (CT-scans and magnetic resonance imaging) to examine the cranial mechanics and the soft tissue architecture of the venom glands. The cranial mechanics investigations showed that the Komodo Dragon has a remarkably weak bite and that the skull is poorly adapted to resist the twisting motions that would result from holding onto a prey item. However the skull is well adapted for pulling backwards, which facilitates the infliction of deep wounds by the long, blade-like serrated teeth. The MRI results revealed that the Komodo Dragon has the most complex venom glands yet described for any venomous animal, and that its close extinct relative Megalania was the largest venomous animal to have lived. These large carnivorous reptiles are known to bite prey and release them, leaving the prey to bleed to death from the horrific wounds inflicted. We have now shown that it is the Komodo Dragon's tooth and venom, combined-arsenal that account for their hunting prowess. The combination of specialized bite and venom seems to minimise the Dragon's contact with prey and allow it to take large animals. We believe that the dragon is able to weaken and immobilize their prey with a venomous bite that increases the damage done by their long serrated teeth. In addition to using mass spectrometry to obtain a profile of the venom proteins we also constructed a cDNA libraty to recover the mRNA transcripts expressed in the dragon’s venom gland and thus obtain full-length sequences for use in molecular phylogenetic analyses. We then tested the effects of the venom and found it to be similar to that of the gila monster and many snakes which cause a severe loss in blood pressure by widening blood vessels, thereby inducing shock in a victim. These findings may explain the observations by that Komodo Dragon prey become still and unusually quiet soon after being bitten. Bitten prey also bleed profusely, consistent with our discovery that the venom was also rich in toxins that prolong bleeding. For the icing on the cake, we examined fossils of the Dragon's giant extinct relative Megalania (Varanus priscus). From similarities in skull anatomy they determined that this seven meter lizard would have used a similar venom and bite system, making it the largest venomous animal to have ever lived. The media attention was considerable. However, I got absolutely hammered by a cold virus the day it came out. The curse of the Komodo Dragon got me again! Two nights before I was to fly out of Melbourne to the scorching heat of the Arizona and New Mexican desert, I curled up at 6pm in front of the wood stove heater to warm up. I got a bit warmer than I planned.

I’d much rather be woken up by a smokin’ hot young nun giving me a blowjob than to be woken up by the banshee screech of the smoke alarm announcing that my house has just turned into fiery hell. But in life, we don’t always get a choice in such matters. I had been snoozing for maybe a half hour when I awoke to meter and a half high flames erupting from what used to be my roof. Something had gone wrong and the top of the chimney had set the roof on fire. I grabbed one of the fire extinguishers always on the ready near the reptile cages, and then rang 000 in an absolute panic, and then emptied the other fire extinguisher. I raced twice up to the roof with buckets to pour water on the flames. The second time one leg went through the weakened roof, tearing lateral ligaments of my left knee. I was utterly out of my depth in a crisis for the first time in my life. I know where I stand with any animal but fire is the one thing that truly scares me. The flames were racing along inside the space between the roof and the fancy straw insulation/ceiling. It had already spread from the lounge room to the computer room and the house was heating up real fast. A meter thick blanket of smoke covered the ceiling all through the house. The dingoes were outside but absolute blind with fear. The Community Fire Association crew were absolute legends. In less than five minutes they were here in all their technicolor-lighted glory, and tearing the roof apart from the inside to get to the internal fire. Getting it out in no time but at the same time rendering the house into a black swamp. Ash and extinguisher powder covering all available surfaces like a grey funeral shroud. I was on the phone with the insurance company while trying to calm down two absolutely freaking out dingoes. Their worst nightmare was happening. Fire. Nothing scares an animal (or me) quite like it.

As always, there is some inevitable humour. One of my neighbours, the only ones I actually know in my part of the mountain, is also the CFA coordinator. She was away from the mountain at the time she saw the fire on her pager and saw it was the house next to hers. So she rang the truck when coordinator saying for them to make sure the dogs were OK, to mind the electric fence and that there were large quantities of goannas in residence. A rather unusual call out for them!!

More seriously, she said that if I wasn’t so religious about making sure I always have a fresh battery in the smoke detector, then I would have certainly died of smoke inhalation. She also said that type of fire, in between the ceiling and roof, is the worst kind and usually the house is lost. Indeed, mine was the best outcome they’ve ever had. Then again, they’ve never been called out to a herpers house. All good herpers are very concerned about fire so I have two fire extinguishers always pressure-tested and good to go, one in the house, one in the herp building. I spent until almost dawn cleaning up, crashed for a few hours and continued mopping. The combination of powder from the extinguishers, plus ash and water is the worst mess to clean up. Ironically I did not seek refuge in alcohol in exactly the situation most people would be clutching the bottle like a life-preserver to a drowning man at sea. But it appealed to my sense of irony to finally make the conscious decision not to deal with my problems chemically. I was leaving in 18 hours and an already insane schedule just got phenomenally more complicated. I needed full strength, stamina and alertness to pull it off. Fine. Also ironically, the pups were contently asleep. Not a care in the world. The powers of dingoes to reboot their inherent innocence is always so wonderful to be around. The insurance company, AAMI, were incredible. I was absolutely gobsmacked. The night of the fire they had two repair people there, one to temporarily wind-proof the giant sky-light where my lounge room roof used to be and another to tweak the wiring so that the burnt wires hanging down in the lounge room were cut off, and there fore I had power for the rest of the house so that I could clean and pack. The next day they had a proper crew out to board and tarp up the roof so that it could over-winter while I was away for three and a half months. I’ll get the full repairs done when I return. They also had the money for my damaged personal belongings in the bank the very next day!! I have been paying a fortune for coverage with them, but you get what you pay for in such things. With my life-style, I always maximise insurance (not just for rental cars!). I choose AAMI because during the big Canberra fires a few years back, Alexia’s uncle lost a good chunk of his house. He had that company and had no hassells while his neighbours who went with the cheaper companies had one drama after another.

After packing all night, I boarded the plane to fly to the desert with only two hours sleep in the previous 48. As worn out as I have ever started a trip. But being in the baking heat and playing with venomous reptiles will rejuvenate me quicker than anything else! No better cure for fatigue and jetlag. Except perhaps being woken up while being given a blowjob by a smoking hot blonde nun!!

Deported around the world in 80 days

2009-04-23T03:34:00.000-07:00

Being deported is an experience I highly recommend. I arrived in Brasil only to find out my visa had expired (oops). Rather than deporting my lily-white ass back to Spain (where I had flown in from) I manged to convince them to instead deport me to Argentina (where I had never been but always wanted to go to). I had a round-the-world ticket with several sectors available for any given continent so I was well-and-truly sorted in that regards. The flight, however, wasn't until the next day. So rather than putting me in the detention room with the riff-raff, I let them see the logic of me checking into the hotel that was on the international side of customs. They had my passport so I obviously wasn't going anywhere.

Landing in Argentina I glided over to the information desk, Versace boots beating a nice little tango rythym. I asked for a cool place about an hour outside of Buenas Aires. After the cab ride from hell I ended up a remarkably cool little villa. After checking in and having a nice long shower to wash off the travel grime, I settled down in the reception area with a nice cool beer. Like the white hunter that I am, I made sure to have a nice vantage point of the front desk in case anything 'interesting' wandered in. Which did present itself nicely two hours later in the form of a Qantas stewardess named Kylie. Excellent. I knew where the nights entertainment was going to be. And sure enough, she did not disappoint. As loony of a character as I would meet this side of myself. Very good value. Very Australian in looks and humour. A good sort indeed. And being a good Aussie girl, she could demolish beer like an Irish pub career alcoholic!

The next morning we were both rather worse for wear but nothing about nine cups of coffee an an equal volume of orange juice could not cure.

In the meantime, the conference organisers were thinking I was like Tom Hanks' character in the movie 'The Terminal'. Picturing a lost waif in the airport being taken advantage of in the big bad world. Lost? Nope, no matter where I am I have a talent for making it exactly where I want to be! Waif? Not unless there is such thing as a muscular 188cm skin-head waif!! Taken advantage of? Perhaps!!! :)

The conference organisers sorted me a new visa in classic South American style. The husband of the head of the scientific organising committtee had a good mate high up in the State Government. Sorted. At first I was to board the plane and simply land in Recife, sashay up to the customs counter and a visa was to be waiting for me. I envisioned it being very 'Casablanca'. "Go to the red-head at counter three and whisper (in Portugese of course) that the eagle has landed'. However the petty beurocrats in Argentina would not let me board without physically seeing my visa. They did not believe my story that I had one waiting for me. So a few phone calls later I rolled up to the Brasilian embassy and had a visa in record time. The lady at the counter didnt know what I was talking about until I mentioned that I was a scientist and that I was attending a conference in Recife. A lightbulb went off over her head and she said 'oooooooohh that is you' and broke out in a very cute smile. I knew yet again I had landed cat-like on my feet again.

Next morning I was off to Recife. Arriving at the conference (the World Congress of the International Society of Toxinology) I found my deportation was already the talk of the conf. Even people I didn't know knew about it. Which didn't hurt that some of them were stunning Brasilian twenty-something grad students. All had great sympathy. I bought a few rounds of caprihinas (the yummy, incredibly potent rum based endemic drink) and had a few bought for me. SO I quickly settled in and made up for lost time. I had arrived just in time for a nice big party that night and the following day were my two favorite parts of any conference: my talk and the conference banquet.

My talk on the venom system of the Komodo Dragon and the extinct giant close-relative Megalania was very well recieved. The banquet that evening was classic. I started it off in typical fashion: absent mindedly putting my Versace boot though the glass plates of one of the giant flood lights, setting the coloured plastic covering on fire as it came in contact with the incredibly hot bulb within. Rather than doing anything about it, I enjoyed watching it burn. This got the attention of the lovelies in front of me who thought it was hilarious. Particularly since one of them had just accidently kicked it seconds earlier with her high heel as she was equally absent-mindedly catwalking by. What better icebreaker!! I ended up watching the most glorious beach sunrise the next morning with her before finally going to sleep. The last day of the conference was fairly tame, as was to be expected with the swimming pools of caprihinas consumed the night before!

Then it was off to Sao Paulo to give a talk at the legendary Instituto Butantan early the following week. I landed early evening of a saturday night and of course was keen to hit the town. About 10pm I asked the girl working the front desk where was cool to go to. She directed me to a massive rave going on. I went and dutifully transed until 3:30am. Needing some fresh stimulation I grabbed a taxi and said 'take me to a gringo bar'. He dropped me off at the Charles Edwards. Suitably English. I asked the Brasilian Beauty standing by the door people were exiting from where the entrance was. She replied it was closing. Bugger I said. Then immediately asked her and her friend where they were going. 30 seconds later I was in their car finding out! :) Weekend sorted.

The talk on tuesday at Butantan was brilliant. Except for a shocking hang-over from having fun with my new playmates. Nothing three red bulls before my talk couldn't cure. Rather than doing the safe option of doing the komodo talk (which I had done in every concievable shape and chemical combination) I was test driving a new talk on the 'Toxicogenomic Multiverse'. Examining the convergent recruitment of different protein types into independent venomous lineages and examining what characteristics made these proteins amenable for such convergent molecular evolution. This was then further expanded to show that these same protein types were also used in many occasions by blood-meal feeding animals such as vampire bats, leeches or mosquitoes. Often for the same biological targeting. Thus, I was making the argument that hematophagous secretions thus must be considered a specialised subset of venom rather than just modified saliva. The proteins used are not salivary proteins but rather the result of the same sort of gene recruitment process and accelerated molecular evolution as proteins from 'true' venoms. Thus any distinction is arbitrary. A tough call to float a new talk coinsidering the shape I was in but I warmed up during the talk and by the end I had hit my stride nicely. The question & answer session afterwards was a light as ever. I have a tendency to do my talks as massive data dumps. Machine gun spraying gargantuan amounts of data. Leaving the audience stunned and rather over-whelmed :)

After that a lovely day was spent with my fellow light-destroyer from the conference, an ex-model who got bored with not using her brain and went back to university to get the skills to satisfy her passion for venom. Then out in the eve with one of my pub playmates who graciously drove me to the airport at 3am.

Landing in Melb was just in time for my cousin from Norway Haakon's birthday and hanging out with him and his posse of Norwegian valkyries until dawn. I also discovered that Australia was giving out money as part of the 'economic stimulus'. Where we were recieving nice big fat cheques and were supposed to spend them. Excellent concept! So I did my part for the economy and got my back ink-work finished. A wicked snake tattoo that fit in nicely with the others. Perfect harmony.

[showing the tattoo montage and also the effects of cleaning up my lifestyle and intensively getting back into swim training! Its nice to have my build coming back!! Ten kilos of muscle added on in three months and only seven more before I am back up to my 100 kilo optimal weight :) ]

I also explored my artistic side with one of the valkyries from Haakon's party in my first go at body painting. I added some interesting accessories that I thought completed the montage. She was a very good sport about it and it turned out quite amazing. The letters spell TYPE (as in of-a-kind as each of the four panels is thematically linked).

[snakes clockwise from upper left corner: Austrelaps superbus, Notechis scutatus, Acanthophis hawkei, Astrotia stokesii]

Shrtly after returning, my paper on cephalopod venom evolution was also very well recieved, and got quite a lot of press (including this snippet of a hilarious radio interview I did)

So, life is good. I have given up on the concept of long-distance relationship and am just enjoying the time and location I am in, confident in the knowledge that a stable serious relationship will someday naturally emerge. Until then, I am in a happy fun state of mind leading my own inimitable version of Californication :)

Body Snatching

2009-02-28T02:46:00.000-08:00

Through the eyes of a stranger. My world of old is now viewed through a new self. Fitting like a square peg into a round hole. Haunts and havens that no longer hold the same allure or provide the same sanctuary.

In the latest travels, I am inadvertently retracing the steps of my flight. However, doing them in reverse: Asia to Europe to the Amazon. However, not in an attempt to turn back time and reclaim my life of old. As a parenthetical aside: what do you get when you play a country song backwards? Your truck back, your dog back and your wife back!

I was not the wreck I was when I left but did have a couple chemical backslides, once in Hong Kong and once in Paris. While fun, the moaning-after only reinforced that I do not want to go back to being that dark person twisted on the inside. The bad old me. The last two months have been of light rather than flight. I have flourished under the sun on my skin and soul. It felt like so much more than only a month and twenty days of clarity and cleanliness. Gears were turning that hadn’t turned for years. But in emotion and in physical being. The information gain has been more than in the entire twelve previous months.

Seeing the old places through new eyes also during new times. Normally when I am in Paris it is during its summer. With the accompanying plague of annoying tourists. I have been there so many times over so many years that I consider myself a semi-local. Rue Saint Louis en L’ile (my favourite street) was empty. Devoid of tourists. This allowed me to just quietly bop along in my own little world. Just how I like it.

Taking the train through France, lost in thought about my previous visit during the freefall of my darkest winter. Now visiting on the cusp of spring. Life blooming anew as I stared out at the leafless forests. Much like my soul, they were not dead but shimmered of the promise of life anew. Reflective of this, the clouds were not the institutional grey of winter with flat hard surfaces and but rather they were those of the turning: fractured deep soft pillows with veins of blue.

The essence of self identity is the most fundamental of a self exploration. It has been during this latest travel that I have discovered I am no longer me. Much like steel passed through a hot flame, I have been elementally changed by the inferno of the last two years. Not that this is necessarily a bad thing. But it was quite starting to realise I have irrevocably mutated into another being. I need to now discover who this new person is; what makes him happy; what his dreams are. Only then can I make informed decisions as to the places I want to go; the profession I want to pursue; the person I want to be; who I want to be with. What external face do I present to the world? What internal face to present to myself?

The concept of body snatching is a tale as old as speech itself. To be possessed from without. Two books I read while on the travels addressed this from very different angles. The first, Revolutionary Road, delt with the snatching from within. In this case, the mimicking external behaviour (suburban lifestyle and job) resulting in the loss of self and love. The other book, The Host, dealt with the classic snatching from without (spinal worm who then mimics the external behaviour) but the true identity putting up a mental fight for the control of body. In both books the struggle is to keep from losing identity. The most insidious enemy is revealed to not be the external parasite but rather the internal compromiser.

In my struggle to keep from losing my self, I have remained true to but for survival I have had metamorph into the next stage of my evolution. I have snatched my own body in a sense. Before making any long term professional or personal commitments, I must find out who I am now. I am done with the analyses of the past though. Sooner or later a point must be reached where enough inner searching has been done, the gaze turned forward with a ‘fuckit’ shrug. Too much self-analysis after a while becomes mental masturbation. Whatever horrors are in the past, are exactly there. The past. Life must go on. I will learn who I am now in the only true way to learn: by living.

Of Heaven and Earth

2009-02-01T22:04:00.000-08:00

The innocent question ‘Are you all out of fresh blood of young virgin?’ was met with a look of utter denial filter. The stewardess’s brain has decided that she could not possibly have heard that and therefore she didn’t. ‘I’m sorry, what?’ was asked in the sparkling fashion perfected by hosties the world over. ‘I’m fine’ I said, having already casually surrepticiously liberated several waters. Not because I needed to lift them but it is always good to stay in practice.

I had just finished up on sea snake shoot in Weipa for the hard-hitting investigational journalistic prowess known as 60 minutes who were getting deep into the mysteries of what makes an extreme scientist tick. Adrenalin was pretty much settled on as the answer. I of course tried to deny this as the motivation, stating with great solemnity that I was discovery driven, but was pushing shit up hill considering I have an adrenalin tattoo prominently on my neck. Hmmm… good point I thought when this was pointed out in the interview segment that followed lots of night-time scenes best described as…. well… umm …. errr… adrenalin filled. Leaning over the side of the moving boat to bodily yank sea snakes by hand into the boat is not quite the normal image of a working scientist. I did insist that it was the science that drove me. That the adrenalin filled fun times were but shallow, transient experiences. That my science was the legacy I was striving to leave. But this was of course belied by my tanned body sliding in and out of the water.

The host (Liam) and producer (Howard) were one’s I worked with before. Extremely good sorts with suitably politically incorrect sense of humours so we always have an appropriately inappropriately good time. Last time we had filmed in the Kimberly, this time we were bouncing around on a boat in Weipa in the Gulf of Carpentaria. They got the footage they wanted and we had fun. The inevitable teasing occurred, such as when fishing one time and the host asked if there was any squid left. You’re a bit precious I said, as I baited his hook. Not quite what he ment but the setup was too perfect.

Being back in Weipa again was not as rough as the first time. I was starting to reclaim it as ‘mine’ in the sense that it was not as haunted. New people there, new experiences, new sights, new smells, new life. Same gold adrenalin.

For the second part of the shoot, we filmed on the Great Barrier Reef. As always, working with animals provides for moments of great humour or terror (depending on perspective). Upon surfacing from one dive, where a good sized Olive Sea Snake latched onto Liams (rather thin) dive glove, he sputtered ‘I thought you said they wouldn’t bite’. “Nooooooooooooooo” I replied with a rather cheeky grin “I said they DON’T NORMALLY BITE”. There of course being a remarkable difference between the two statements.

A dalliance during the shoot reinforced how hard it was going to be to find someone and fall in love again. Fun in the sun, what happens in the field stays in the field. Everyone is just trying not to be lonely. Etc. etc. etc. About as emotionally satisfying as a solo session. The transience kicks in and everyone goes their separate ways.

I flew briefly back to Melbourne for the Big Day Out music festival. Alone since my cousin Haakon had dengue fever that he picked up in Indonesia. Poor bastard had a wretched vacation. First his boat sank going from one island to another, taking all his luggage with it and, worse, causing him to miss a date with a stunning Brasilian. Then he gets one of the worst mosquito borne viruses out there, one that I have been in mortal terror of getting. Ouch. Ah well, at least the fever induced delirium took his mind off of missing out on the Brasilian!

I had a fun, chemical free time. Worked way up to front of stage for Bullet For My Valentine, Living End and Prodigy. All three were sensational and Living End remain one of the best live bands I have had the privelage to loose precious hearing to. Second time I have seen them and they blew me away even more this time. Prodigy are a delicious form of scary live and really know how to work a crowd. Absolutely brilliant. Neil Young, however, was boring as batshit and the set was so limpid I expected him to clutch his chest and keel over halfway through. I got bored and instead wandered over to the stage where Prodigy were going to be played, where the crowd was being warmed up by some of the best techno music I’ve heard outside of Holland. I called up swirly memories of my many times raving in Holland and managed to trance myself into an Ecstasy-induced-like state despite not having popped any pretty white pills. Neat little trick to have discovered. Mind over chemicals!

During the festival I had several unhearable phone calls from different documentary producers. One from London for a shoot on modern day plagues that they are interested in me fronting, the other from the producer for the shoot I was to start the very next day back in Weipa. With only three hours of sleep under my belt, and obliterated hearing, I was back on the plane. Before leaving, however, I checked the online issue of The Age and was rather pleased to see a photo of myself doing great damage to my spinal cord while headbanging to Bullet For My Valentine. Result!

This shoot was with Brady Barr on sea snakes for National Geographic. Brady and I have a fair number of mutual mates so it was good to finally catch up in person with him. He is an authentic scientist-presenter. He has an abiding interest in the animals and is not a cartoon idiot like Action Softie. The first night we got onto a good patch of snakes and I had just pulled in a big elegant sea snake when we got smashed by a huge storm front. Completely blowing out the night’s shooting. The next day we went after sharks. Which are normally not hard to find. But, of course, now that we had a film crew they kept their distance. We enjoyed catching some trevally and then it was time for the second night of filming. Right at nightfall, just when the snakes were starting to pepper the surface, another storm front hit. Bigger than the previous nights. The producer just about started crying. We toughed it out. While filming was impossible, this didn’t stop us from just cruising around in the waves, catching snakes. It was a welcome reprieve from filming. We were able to just relax, hang shit on each other and enjoy catching snakes without having to perform (dance monkey dance!). During this period we caught a very special snake. A Disteria/Hydrophis/Astrotia major. The reason I have listed three genera is that it is so rare that it is not even resolved which genus it belongs to. While it has some Hydrophis like characteristics, it is also very reminiscent of an Astrotia stokesii. A brilliant catch that made the film a requited quest. Perfect.

The crew left happy. Leaving me to hang out for five days alone with a free hotel room and 4WD. The storms kept getting stronger and stronger. A cyclone was brewing and was spitting out big chunks of extreme weather. Awesome. I love being up in the Cape during such events and best being out in the ocean in the heart of the maelstrom. The winds and rain were phenomenal. It must be the Viking in me as I like nothing better than to be holding onto a rope while standing legs akimbo at the prow of a boat. Riding the waves like a wild bronco. Hard on the knees but magic for the soul.

I spent some great times hanging out with some local mates of mine but also did lots of big drives through the mud alone, just enjoying the solitude. Socially Weipa is definitely a BYOPR (bring your own protein receptor) sort of place. Prime bushpig habitat. I simply enjoyed curling up on my bed and watching the stunning tennis of the Australian Open.

Seeing the human view of the environment is so much more telling when actually out in it. The previous cyclone had washed huge amounts of fertiliser and other chemicals in to the Great Barrier Reef. Despite the huge economic importance that reef tourism is to Australia, the reef is being slowly but surely killed through neglect and abuse. The farming chemical runoff is damaging in so many different ways, truly a multi-dimensional attack. Some are toxins that cause fish deformities while the ecobalance is distorted by the massive amount of nutrients washed off, leading to algae blooms and slime covered coral. We had to head way out to see to escape the turbid algae chocked water.

Another good example of the irrational attitude is how Christians view the world. There was a piece I read in the local Weipa paper where a Aboriginal Christian ‘leader’ in a column titled ‘Tribal Bible’ where he states “The environment is a big issue today, what with global warming and creatures becoming extinct, from such activities as huge chunks of forests being cut down daily in some countries, taking way their food source.” So far so good and in line with the popular perception of Aborigines as environmental stewards, but just when he was on the verge of making perfect sence, he continues with “Yet even if we were good caretakers of God’s earth and its creatures, as was Adam and Eve’s job, an das we should be today, it is all destined to pass away because it was cursed that way, after Adam and Eve sinned”. Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr this defeatist irrational attitude brought about by the superstitious death-cult inspired belief in an imaginary sky fairy makes me so frustrated. I have heard time and time again from Xians that it doesn’t matter what we do to the earth since a) good little pious sausages will go to heaven and b) the earth will get ravaged during the rapture and Armageddon. Well, for those of us who subscribe to reality we’d rather see the earth not get trashed by irresponsible hairless primates.

The asinine attitude towards the environment is also evident in how apex predators are considered. For example, while we were up in the Cape a 2.2 crocodile was killed in Mornington Island simply because it was doing what it was evolved to do: cruise around looking for big fish to eat. The anonymous EPA spokesidiot said, and I quote, that it was euthanized as “It was not appropriate to transport the animal to a mainland crocodile farm”. Why the fuck not?! How is it more appropriate to murder (let us not hide behind the word euthanize, euthanize is what is done to a sick animal, killing a healthy one is murder pure and simple) such a magnificent beast than to have it live out its days? Crocodiles are glorious to behold in the wild. While fishing up in Weipa, we saw one cruising along in the water that was an easy five meters and I reckon it would have exceeded five and a half if we had gotten a measuring tape on it. Another day, we had a four meter one come right past our five meter boat. Such a thrill!!!

It is now time to board the plane back to civilisation. Where I will be for the next few weeks before heading to Europe for a few weeks before going back to the loving embrace of the Amazon. This time healthy in mind, body and spirit. While the gypsy lifestyle very much suits me, it is socially a trying existence at times. Geographical distance means nothing to me. If I meet the right person and she lives on the other side of the globe, that is fine. I have a talent for bending time and space to suit my needs. But the other person would have to be on the same wavelength. In anycase, I have stopped seeking and striving in this regard. Similarly, I am at a career cross-roads, having fed to fullness the monster within me that was driving my science, and thus needing a new direction, goals and motivations, I am putting pieces into play and seeing what happens. Both personally and professionally I am simply raising the sails and letting the Future-Wind take me where it may. I am not trying to use my force of will to meld things into a shape suitable for me. Rather I am surfing off of the wavelengths already emanating from others. Harmonious existence with other people and with nature is what I am striving for now.

Addicted to Science

2009-01-17T06:00:00.000-08:00

Just got done watching the movie The Wrestler. It really made me squirm. Really struck a little too close to home. It is an exploration of a different kind of addition. An addiction to the self that is defined by a calling. Where this self-expression is put before all else. The movie unflinchingly explores not only the external costs but also the internal costs. The costs of family and the costs of health.

Addiction is normally thought of in regards to chemical addiction. But that is but one kind of addiction. Addiction comes in all flavours. Can addictions be positive or are they inherently negative? Is addiction when the essence of desire becomes one of need? Or can an addiction be of fullfillment and joy? If addictions are when things are out of balance to become consumptive and destructive, then what is it called when there is balance? Chi?

Addiction to a career is different than being a workaholic. Workaholic is simply being a hamster that never gets off of the wheel. Whether driven by financial concerns or whatever. But being addicted to the career is a rather different creature: when the career is the embodiment of something internalised. The definition as a person because it is the professional achievement reflective of a deeply personal passion.

There is every variation of a theme in coming to terms with this. All of which require a compromise or sacrifice of some sort. Some have happy families, trading that fullfillment for a slice of the professional pie. Others sacrificed the family and thus continue to achieve the professional. Which eats up slice of the pie regardless as the loss quite naturally takes a bit of the shine off of the accomplishment.

At the end of the day, the only way forward is through self honesty and then having the strength to simply let go; with the chicken bones falling where they may and thus spelling fate out. This sort of brutal honesty is the only way to be true not only to self but also those around.

An appropriate encapsulation of this is the Black Keys video for Your Touch. Where at 2:20 one says to the other 'well at least I died doing what I love. You know, lipsyncing. I love that shit'. :)